Stella heard my cry of help and left the *PERFECT* link in my comments.
I'm sharing it with you, because pretty much everyone expressed concern about the Second Novel Curse. (See? NO ONE can escape!!) It's a talk from Elizabeth Gilbert. I'm not sure how you feel about her — I adore her, but I know many resent her for having the time and money to do what she did, when most of us cannot (I understand this reaction, too) — but I think/hope those of you struggling with the creative process will find something of value in this video.
[In case you're unfamiliar with Elizabeth Gilbert, she wrote Eat Pray Love, a mega-huge bestseller about going through an ugly divorce and finding peace with herself again in Italy (eating), India (praying), and Bali (falling in love). I loved it, and I've read it a few times.]
I cried through at least half of her lecture. It was exactly what I needed to hear. A life-changing, light bulb moment. Thank you, Stella, for looking out for me. I wish I could bake you cookies or give you a bear hug or wash your laundry for a year.
If you're reading this on an RSS reader, you might have to come to my actual blog to watch this. If you still can't see it, you can watch it here.
I hope any writer struggling (and suffering) right now will watch it this week. And I hope you'll find comfort in it, like I did.
More comments stuff . . .
Amber asked: Oh, and I wanted to say that I have a new actor crush. The hottest guy out there on TV? The one who makes ME swoon (which has never happened before)? Rupert Penry-Jones. *swoon* *fans self* Did you see him in The 39 Steps? OMG.
Rupert? Who is this Rupert you speak of? Surely you mean . . .
CAPTAIN WENTWORTH.
You MUST watch Persuasion (2007). And I'll watch The 39 Steps. And then we'll come back here, and we'll be like: "OMGGGGG RUUUUPEEERRRT SOOOO DREAAAMMY!!!"
Jessie asked: Is Anna your very FIRST book written ever? Or do you have another (or others) 'under the bed'?
Yes and no. Anna is the first book I finished, and the first book I showed to people and tried to sell. But Lola is technically my first book! Which adds a lovely complication to our history. Lola and I are about to have our TEN YEAR anniversary this autumn. Pretty frightening.
I never made it far with her, and she used to be veryveryvery different (adult, for one thing). I set her aside when, well, I had to. But shortly after, I had my wondrous Anna dream! I launched into writing her story one week later.
(An excellent career move, if I say so myself.)
I credit that old, ugly, never-ending, never-finished version of Lola with teaching me how to write. Old Lola prepared me for Anna. And everything about new Lola has changed, with the exception of the setting and the characters. They wouldn't leave me alone! It was an exciting moment while working on Anna when I realized the books had a connection. I was THRILLED to know these characters I loved were still salvageable, that I could still tell their story!
Even if their story had changed. Drastically.
In other words, there's nothing under my bed except for dog fur and a large Rubbermaid container of shoes. Unless you count old Lola. Which you probably should.
Terresa asked: Your first book (and cover) sound divine. Have you sold the movie rights yet? I can see it in lights already...
Thank you!! And sadly, no. Wouldn't that be cool? I hope it happens someday!
I'm burrowing into a hole this week to work, so if you don't see me around much, that's why.
THE HOLE
Thanks to Stella and Elizabeth, I feel the beautiful, wistful brush of hope again.
Eighty-something comments here! So many more on Facebook, Livejournal, and Twitter! And the EMAIL!! I am overwhelmed with love. Thank you for the wonderful, wonderful, wonderful things you've said about my cover. For an author, especially a newbie nobody like myself, lemme tell ya:
PHEW.
Now that the excitement has died down (and thank you for making it exciting!), I'll move forward with my promise. I realized much, much later — like, ten minutes ago — that when I said I'd invent a new, fun announcement about my second novel with a BIG REVEAL, I'd actually shot myself in the foot. Because now you're expecting something.
Whoops.
Told you I wasn't thinking clearly.
So I don't really know how to do that, so instead I'll try my best to open up about Lola and the Boy Next Door. If you've been reading my blog for an extended period of time, you know Second Novel and I have a . . . rocky relationship. Pretty much every time I've mentioned it, I've used what can only be described as the Jerry Seinfeld "Newman" voice.
"Lola."
This book has kicked my butt, you guys.
I have spent a LOT of time over a course of several years fighting with it. And I have spent a LOT of time this year crying about it. I don't want to go into detail. I want to keep this happy! So I will simply explain it as this: Lola and I suffer from the Second Novel Curse.
If you're a writer who has written at least two books, you know what I'm talking about. And if you aren't . . . well . . . trust me. The second novel is always cursed. There are many, many boring reasons why this is so, and because they are boring — and heartbreaking — I'm stopping this paragraph now.*
Because I want to use this post to celebrate Lola and the Boy Next Door.
Lola is a GOOD, WEIRD, COOL book. The plot must remain a secret because: (A) I like to keep such things secret, and (B) It's still in the organic, muddy clay stage. The idea is there, but it'll take many more months of shaping and remolding before the true story emerges.
But here are some things I CAN tell you . . .
(1) It's a companion novel to Anna and the French Kiss.
This means it's not a direct this-happens-next sequel. The novel is firmly Lola's — thus, Lola gets the title! — and it can be enjoyed on its own. But there's a bit of character overlap, so it'll be enjoyed MORE if Anna is read first.
(2) No, I don't know when it will be published.
From what I understand, it's on track to be released a year-ish after Anna. Which would be awesome! But many factors could change this. One scenario: I turn in Lola and my editor says, "Er, no. Let's do something else." This happens frequently with second novels! (Second Novel Curse, remember?) I hope this doesn't happen. BUT IT COULD. A novelist's motto should be that of a scout: Be prepared.
(3) No, it doesn't take place in Paris.
But if I'm fortunate enough to get a contract someday for Third Novel (currently in "fledgling adorable baby first draft" status), you will see Paris again. Fourth Novel (currently in "have-two-intriguing-scenes and an interesting concept" status) is NOT a companion, but would appeal to the same audience. So even if my fab publisher is like, "Okay, Stephanie. These first two books were nice, but I think we're done." (BE PREPARED, remember??) Fourth Novel should be able to flourish somewhere. There's also a Fifth and a Sixth Novel hovering around in various stages of undress, but they are TOTALLY COMPLETELY unrelated. So I'm not sure why I'm mentioning them, other than I think they'd feel bad if I didn't.
(4) Writers are crazy.
See above paragraph.
(5) Wait, wasn't I supposed to be talking about Lola?
I love characters — characters make or break a story for me — and I'm proud of the strange crew I've assembled on Lola's pages. One of the most enjoyable things for me as a writer is to take someone who is a little absurd and make them relatable. Lola is PACKED with these people. It's fun. It's also challenging. But mainly it's fun.
Lola also does ("will do," someday, after more drafts) something else I love. There are many great types of novels, but perhaps my favorite type are the contemporary romances that FEEL magical. Real magic. Those places and moments and people and emotions that are so wondrous or strange that they make you realize how incredible real life is.
Because it is, isn't it?
First kisses, wishing on stars, secret gardens, dark chocolate with hidden cayenne pepper, the cycles of the moon, a lucky pair of shoes, music, holding hands, watching someone paint, memories triggered by the scent of crayons . . .
There are many wondrous and strange things packed into Lola's pages. Perhaps even some of the things I've just mentioned!
But definitely these:
Putting those images together actually made me teary! For every bad thing I have ever said about Lola and the Boy Next Door — and ohmygosh, that number must be in the thousands — the simple truth is this: I love it.
So that's what I can tell you about Second Novel.
I'll leave you with one final thing. In Lola, there's a character very, very, very dear to my heart who would find much in common with OK Go's latest video. (I didn't think it was possible to top their treadmill video, and I am OUTRAGEOUSLY THRILLED they proved me wrong.) So in that character's honor, here it is:
Real life magic, eh?
*If you're interested, someday I'll talk about the Second Novel Curse. Why it exists and what writers can do about it. Now would be grossly inappropriate for me to address that issue, as I'm still ensnared in the thick of it.
"If all the birds died tomorrow, I probably wouldn’t even notice. At some point somebody would mention that there was no more birdsong. I would say, 'I didn’t notice because I’ve been inside.' Then I would go back to not doing whatever I was not doing."
I get this.
And there's nothing I can add to that, that won't turn this into a depressing post. But yeah. I get this.
For the last several months, I've had trouble writing. There's been this strange . . . disconnect. I can't get new words down on the page. There are all of these beautiful sentences and ideas and scenes floating through my mind, but it's as if a switch were flipped. I can't grab a hold of them. I can't turn them into tangible words. I can't write down what's in my head.
It's frustrating and maddening and embarrassing. And it makes me feel like everything is over before it began. Which I know is untrue. But still.
The thought persists.
I'd hoped that NaNoWriMo would be a good kick, that it would FORCE me out of this hole. But let's take a look at my current graph, shall we?
That's me, not winning. My mustard-colored line is parked at 2,373 words. That's only 706 words more than the DAY ONE goal.
Right now, it would be easy for me to give up. To quit. To convince myself that there are better, more important things for me to do (or not do) this month. But you know what?
I'm not quitting.
I am going to win.
It will just take . . . a few adjustments.
In a recent blog-comment conversation, Corinne Bowen recommended Heather Seller's Chapter After Chapter. I'd never heard of it before, so I popped over to Amazon. I was expecting to find another basic how-to-write manual, but instead I discovered it's about a how to have a writing life.
A subtle difference, but an important one. It's also something I haven't encountered before — in book form, nor in my own life.
Staying motivated is tough.
Staying in your chair and writing every day is tough.
Staying in love with your idea is tough.
Heather's book is the first I've seen that hasn't just said, "It's tough for all of us." (A good thing to know, but something you'll read often. Like here on my blog.) She explains why it's hard, and how we can make it easier. No magic wands. No crazy diets. Just a solid understanding and consideration of the problems attached with living the LIFE of a writer, and how we can help ourselves overcome them.
The wretchedness of the Second Novel. The disbanding of critique groups. The feeling of failure after success.
This book would be good for beginners, but I think it's even better for writers like myself. Perhaps we're a little (a very little) further down the path, but now that it's actually our career . . . how do we keep this up? Now that something is expected of us — and, more importantly, now that we expect something of ourselves — how do we stay in love with the process? How can we keep it FUN?
This book has turned on light bulbs and flashlights and chandeliers. I have hope again.
[I wish I could take you out for coffee and vegan treats as a thank you, Corinne!]
Vegan Cupcakes for Corinne
So . . . it's an uncomfortable realization, but I'm growing out of NaNoWriMo. I don't need it for what I used to need it for (finishing a first draft), and it's difficult to give it the full attention it deserves with several other projects already underway. This might be my last year.
But I'm not quitting.
Remember how I mentioned adjustments would be required to finish? I've decided to use NaNo for what I DO need it for — to help me fall in love with writing again.
I've decided to stop writing this year's novel as a beginning/middle/end draft. I'm not happy with writing mind-blowingly terrible stories anymore. But I AM happy when I have the courage to squeeze out a new scene, or even a moment in a scene, that feels real.
So I'll write scenes. And when I can't write a scene, I'll write a paragraph. And when I can't write a paragraph, I'll interview my characters. Find out what they're thinking. And if they don't want to talk to me? I'll brainstorm.
Hopefully, when this is over, I will have found my confidence again. And when it's time to tackle Third Novel in a serious way next year, I will have a solid (50,000 word!) base to stand on.
Am I dreaming? Of course.
Do I think this is impossible? Of course not.
And because I'm feeling inspiration-happy, here are two more things that sparked my creative excitement this week:
Number One = Thom Yorke's recent Echoplex show
AhhHHHHHhhhhHHHHhhhhHHHHHHhhh.
What I wouldn't give to have been there! I want to crawl into Thom's brain and watch it buzz and pop. He is SO talented.
Thom Yorke makes me glad I'm not a professional musician, because if I were, I wouldn't be able to listen to him without experiencing excruciating bouts of jealousy. Instead, I get to enjoy.
Number Two = Glee
I'm a Glee newbie, and I'm happy — and surprised! — to report that it lives up to the hype. Here are a few reasons to consider tuning in, if you already don't:
(1) Fabulous ensemble cast. I love shows with a lot of characters — so many opportunities for great storytelling. And I appreciate how the teachers and students are equally interesting. Television is often guilty of having cool teens but flat adults, or vice versa. Definitely not the case here.
(2) Jayma Mays' wardrobe. Not quite as fab as Anna Friel's on Pushing Daisies (NO ONE has a better wardrobe than Chuck), but cute in similar monochromatic sort of way.
(3) The music, of course. I'm generally not a fan of musicals (there are a few exceptions like Sweeney Todd, Moulin Rouge!, Dr. Horrible), but the exuberance and talent of the cast — ohmystars, how amazing is Amber Riley as Mercedes? — makes it impossible for me not to grin and hum along.
FUN. It's just FUN. (Even when it's making me cry.) Definitely the best show I've seen on television this year.
Sampling of actual thoughts and words spoken aloud by me, since we last talked:
TUESDAY 22nd, 3:20 am — [staring at novel] I'd be sooooooo embarrassed if the world knew how many times I've listened to "Bootylicious" tonight.
WEDNESDAY 23rd, midnight — [staring at novel] I should be a zombie prom queen for Halloween. I need a tiara. And one of those sashes.
THURSDAY 24th, 10:10 pm — [staring at novel, listening to Trainspotting soundtrack] I want to watch Trainspotting.
THURSDAY 24th, 10:50 pm — [staring at novel, listening to Marie Antoinette soundtrack] I want to watch Marie Antoinette.
FRIDAY 25th, 4:30 am — [staring at novel, listening to Trainspotting soundtrack again] I want to watch Trainspotting.
FRIDAY 25th, 2:50 pm — [waking up from nightmare in which editor sends me forty-five page long letter telling me how horrible my revisions are and that I ruinedeverything] *sob sob sob*
SATURDAY 26th, 1:40 pm — [eating applesauce] "I SMELL! THIS HOUSE SMELLS! ArrrGHHhRHghghghghg!!!" [runs out of house with bowl of applesauce] [eats applesauce on front porch] [takes off running down the street] [slows to walk] [comes home] [brings empty bowl back inside] [goes back to work]
SUNDAY 27th, 4:10 am — [staring at novel] Alan Tudyk seems like such a cool guy. I wish we were buds. I bet he'd be really fun at a barbecue.
MONDAY 28th, 11:50 pm — [waking up from nap] CAN'T SWALLOW. MOUTH. NEVERBEEN. SO DRY.
TUESDAY 29th, 8:00 am — [crawling in bed as Jarrod leaves for work]
ME: All aboard the Sleepytown Express. Choo choooooo. JARROD: Snort. ME, three minutes later, thinking about non-joke train joke: Ha! Ha! ME, thirty seconds later: Ha! ME, ten minutes later: Ha! Ha! Ha! ME, ten seconds later: Zzzzzz.
But . . . I've also had tons of fun ideas for posts in October. Please hang in with me just a little longer while I finish these revisions. Thank you, everyone, for being so understanding.
I miss you.
Thinking of you lots.
I really like your hair today. Did you do something different?
Please tell me about the awesome things you are doing, since I am not allowed to have fun for at least two more weeks.
Not that litter boxes are fun.
But . . . are movies still good? Do people still read? How's television these days? And what's the weather like? If we went on a picnic, would I need to bring a sweater?
Today, a question from fellow North Carolinian writer (YAY!), Beth Revis:
How long does it take you to write, from idea to published novel? What happens at each stage of the process?
Oh dear. A looooong time.
Let's see . . .
Anna and the English French American Boy Masterpiece started out as a NaNoWriMo project. I'd pooh-poohed NaNo for years — "How could anyone write a NOVEL in a MONTH? [obnoxious, snotty laughter]" — until I finally realized:
(A) NaNo isn't about writing a good novel. It's about starting and finishing a draft.
(B) I'd been working on the same project for four years and had yet to finish a single draft.
(C) What harm could come from only one month away from my precious novel?
If you're familiar with National Novel Writing Month, you'll know participants are encouraged to work on something new. The reason is simple: the stakes are lower. Your brain hasn't had time to build The Idea into something perfect and, therefore, unattainable.
So that meant my four-year-old project was out. And as NaNo's starting date was only two weeks away, I needed a new project SOON.
Here's what happened:
It starts here.
Late October 2007 — I have a dream. (Honestly.) I dream about a beautiful boy sitting on the steps of a semi-famous Parisian monument. I am in love with him. The Idea has arrived . . . and with a bang. NaNo allows you one week of preparation, so I spend the last week of October reading about Paris. By the end of the week, I still know absolutely nothing about Paris.
November 2007 — I write a really, really terrible rough draft. But it's a COMPLETE rough draft. MY FIRST. I am overjoyed. Beyond overjoyed! This is pretty much one of the greatest moments of my life. I become gloaty and unbearable for approximately one week.
December 2007 — I decide to start the next draft immediately. I work hard for THREE WHOLE DAYS . . . and then quit. A little distance is healthy, right?
January 2008 — I think I opened the document at some point, but can't swear to it. BUT I read an obscene amount about France (and will continue to do so for the next year). I also begin a friendship with a wonderful, wonderful writer named Paula, who becomes my savior.
February 2008 — I get serious about the new draft. Sort of. I work hard on the first three chapters. I write them, re-write them, and re-write them again. In other words . . . I get stuck. But I show them to Paula, and in a moment I'll be eternally grateful for, she asks for more. "More?" This concept is new to me.
March 2008 — I write more. Paula asks for more again, so I give her even more. I probably have, like, eight decent chapters now. For me, this is nothing short of a miracle. Paula convinces me that these are GOOD chapters, and that I'm ready to attend an SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators) conference. I say, "Really? Like, really really? For reals, really?" Paula remains patient with me.
April 2008 — I attend a regional conference . . . in Western Washington. No. I don't live in or near Washington state. But the lineup of speakers is irresistible. I nervously introduce myself to two Important People: my longtime dream agent Kate Schafer Testerman and fantasy writer extraordinaire Laini Taylor. They are both unbelievably cool. I pray they remember me. I tell Kate that I'm interested in querying her, and that my manuscript should be ready in early autumn. Hey! Look at that! I just gave myself a deadline.
May — July 2008 — Laini remembers me! With her endless advice and guidance via email, I work HARD. I finish my "Skeleton Draft." This is my term for a draft that's complete enough to stand on its own two legs and be recognized as a novel, though just barely. It's riddled with holes (actual, literal holes — entire chapters missing and summarized in a few sentences) and still needs all of its muscle. And a pretty face.
July — September 2008 — I finish my first official, complete draft. HUZZAH! But it's still way too embarrassing to show anyone. So I write another one.
October 2008 — I show the latest draft to Paula, Laini, and another friend (and super-reader) Sumner. They give me amazing and honest advice. I take it. Laini writes this post . . . and my entire life changes. Kate — my longtime dream agent — reads Laini's blog and emails me. SHE REMEMBERS ME. SHE REQUESTS A PARTIAL. The world explodes. I spend a frantic week (or two?) doing a quick round of revisions. I send Anna to Kate.
November 2008 — I'm a nervous wreck. Kate requests a full. OMG, MY DREAM AGENT REQUESTED A FULL. My nerves go into overdrive. I do NaNoWriMo again, because, well, it worked out pretty good for me last year. I write another terrible rough draft. This is Second Novel. Second Novel's rough draft is SO MUCH WORSE than Anna's rough draft. I'm more relieved than happy to finish it.
December 2008 — That whole nervous wreck thing? That's nothing compared to how I feel now. I'm so petrified that I'm unable to write. I take the month off. I realize I have way too much invested in Kate (even though I've tried not to feel this way, it happens anyway), so I query seven other agents in the meantime. I get a few requests for partials and several rejections. I'm no longer petrified, I am flat-out panicking. It's a Christmas miracle that my friends are still talking to me. I cry nonstop.
Early January 2009 — KATE WANTS TO REPRESENT ME! My dream agent is my real agent! I cry a lot this month too, but from pure happiness. I also call everyone I've ever met to say, "Heyguesswhat? I HAVE AN AGENT."
Mid-January — February 2009 — The partying continues. I write another draft. Once again, I call on the help of Paula, Laini, and Sumner. Often several times a day. Oh, and I quit my job at the library (!!!).
March 2009 — Kate sends Anna to two editors. I ask, "Who?" and she says one of them is Julie Strauss-Gabel, John Green's editor. I call my husband in hysterics. Never in a million years did I think JULIE would read my book. Both editors express interest. I try not to get my hopes up, which is stupid and impossible. I resume work on Second Novel, but the whole time I'm writing, I'm thinking, Holy crap. Two editors like my book.
April 2009 — I get offers from both editors. Oh. My. #$%^(*&. God. I accept a two-book deal with Dutton. I AM GOING TO WORK WITH JULIE STRAUSS-GABEL! JULIE! This is actually happening! My novel will be REAL! It'll have pages and that book-y smell and everything!
I'M GOING TO BE PUBLISHED!!!
Late April — June 2009 — I sink into one of the darkest, scariest holes of my entire life. I have to write a book. Two of them. People will read them. And I am a horrible, horrible writer. I try to work on Second Novel, but have little success. I have NO IDEA what I do during this two and a half month period. Seriously. No clue.
July 2009 — With the help of my husband and Kiersten White, I'm pulled out of the abyss. My new motto is, "Okay. You can do this. Okay. It's okay." Second Novel quadruples in size. Hallelujah chorus. A skeleton draft emerges.
August 2009 — Hi! Welcome to the present. I'm doing research right now for Second Novel, and I'm about to dig into one more serious writing session before . . .
(THIS IS THE FUTURE, AND THEREFORE, SUBJECT TO CHANGE)
September 2009 — I receive my very first editorial letter, for Anna.
Late September 2009 — Panic.
October 2009 — Tear Anna apart. Begin rebuilding.
November 2009 — Anna during the day, NaNoWriMo Third Novel at night.
December 2009 — Finish a new draft of Anna.
January 2010 — Go to Paris for research. And pastries.
February 2010 — Spring/Summer 2010 — Work on Anna. Turn in (I hope, I hope) final draft.
Summer 2010 — Summer/Fall 2011 — Work on Second Novel. Work on Third Novel. Do all of those last minute things that publishing requires. I have no idea what these things are. When I learn, I'll let you know.
Summer/Fall 2011 — Anna and the English French American Boy Masterpiece is published. My book is a BOOK. Everyone reading this blog buys a copy. Or two. And then tells all of their friends and family that they should read/purchase it.
TOTAL TIME ELAPSED: Four years.
One final note, the one thing behind every single entry: My husband, Jarrod. Who has taken care of me this entire time and never once complained. Who cooks and cleans the house and takes care of our pets. Who makes coffee and pours it down my throat. Who has pulled countless all-nighters to read countless drafts before countless deadlines.
Who never complains — and always answers seriously — when I ask if the boy is hot enough.
Books don't write themselves. They take time. And they take help.
Today's Completely Unrelated Supplement: My Top Ten Crushes from Teen Movies
Crush #10: Mr. Coulson (Michael Vartan) — Even though it was creepy, because he was kind of her teacher.
I met my big deadline, so I'm back in the real world. I think this is a good week to dip into some writing questions. Might as well start with THE BIG ONE.
But wait!
Before I begin, a caveat. As enormously happy as I am to have received writing questions, I just want to make one thing clear: Like everything I say on this blog, take what I say with a grain of salt. I don't believe anything I have to say about anything (especially writing) is some kind of Great Truth.
I am a novice. I struggle — I struggle a lot — and I'm still learning. So please don't think that I believe I'm some kind of, say, Neil Gaiman. If Neil Gaiman gives you writing advice, TAKE IT.
My advice?
Well. Let's just say it's debatable.
But I do want to help! And I hope that maybe something I say helps someone. Somewhere. Sometime.
Okiedokie. Now that that's over with, I feel comfortable moving forward with today's question.
Crush #9: Cameron Frye (Alan Ruck) — Yes, I liked him more than Ferris. This probably doesn't surprise you.
Cassity (Hi! Lovely to find you in my comments!) asked:
I would love to write, but I am not very disciplined. I have a hard time making myself actually write. What do you do?
This was the first question I was asked, and it is — without a doubt — the hardest.
I have heard of (and personally know) writers who love nothing better than to sit down to a blank computer screen and have at it. Who have no problem filling every spare moment of their day with glorious, glorious typing. Who write several pages a day, multiple novels a year.
I am not one of these writers.
The truth is, I'm not very disciplined either, and I have a very difficult time making myself write. As ludicrous as it sounds, for me, the act of writing itself is the hardest part about being a writer.
Now . . . don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't want to.
I love stories. I love getting that first tick of an idea and rolling around in it. Letting it grow bigger and deeper and wilder. Dreaming up layers and twists and themes. Pulling inspiration from the world that surrounds me, both the real (neighbors, friends, strangers) and the unreal (television, cinema, novels). And above all, I love characters — creating them, growing them, and falling deeply in love with them.
Like all writers, I am an idea MACHINE. But how do I actually get these ideas out of my head and into the physical world?
With a great, big, ugly fight.
It's challenging to give advice on this subject, because what works for me won't always work for you. (I mean, let's face it. What works for me once rarely even works for me twice.)
But what you should know, first-and-above-all, is that I've found writing to be like any other type of exercise: the more often I do it, the easier it is to do it again the next day. And conversely, the more time I allow between writing sessions, the harder it gets to sit down with it again. The idea of writing gets more intimidating. More hopeless. More terrifying.
Sometimes, it also gets boring. I'll think about my project SO MUCH that I'll get tired of it. I'll convince myself that there's nothing worthwhile about it, and I start chasing the shiny new idea. And then that pattern repeats itself. And then nothing ever gets finished.
(1) Obtain an ally, someone to FORCE you to write.
This says a lot about the kind of person I am that I'm actually listing this one first. It's not exactly something to brag about, but for me, it's crucial. I need people to expect something of me. Sometimes this is a family member (cough – Jarrod — cough) and sometimes it's a friend.
Usually it's both. And multiple friends, not just one. Like, an entire SQUADRON of friends, because I require a Stadium-Sized Cheering Section to perform. (I'm not proud to admit that, but there you go.)
Anyway, it's a good idea to get someone on your side. It could be anyone — in the writing community or out of it — but it must be someone who understands that writing is IMPORTANT to you, and under NO CIRCUMSTANCES should they allow you to dissuade them from forcing you to do it.
Yes. You read that correctly.
What I mean is, sometimes you need a stronger person to demand that you go write. And to DO IT NOW. And to NOT TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER. If my husband hadn't literally pushed me into my desk chair and shut the door (while I was crying and sobbing and begging him to let me come back downstairs), I would have never finished Anna. Period.
Crush #7: Josh (Paul Rudd) — He was in college. And he listened to Radiohead.
(2) Schedule writing onto your calendar, like any other appointment or event.
I have heard this helps people.
Me? Not so much, as I am not the world's best daily calendar checker. I'm lucky to know what day of the week it is, let alone an actual date, let alone actual plans for that date.
But maybe YOU are great with calendars.
The point is to find a time for writing and then to stick to it. Schedule it in and don't erase the date or time for ANYONE. Writing is important, just as important as that dentist appointment you scheduled six months ago.
Don't belittle it. It IS important.
Crush #6: David (Kiefer Sutherland) — The only recorded case in history of a guy with a mullet who is also way smokin' hot.
(3) Create a writing pattern (every morning or evening, or so many minutes spread throughout the day).
This is similar to number two, and it's also related to my earlier idea that writing is like exercise, and the more you make it a habit, the easier it'll be.
Are you a morning person or a night person? If you write during your favorite time of day — the time when your brain is the most active — you'll have MUCH better results. But if your schedule is too busy to set aside one large-ish chunk of time, set a minutes goal. Start with forty minutes a day, broken up however necessary. And if that works for you, try bumping it up to an hour of writing per day. Or if forty minutes is too much, bump it down. Just find something that works. Keep trying.
(4) Set reasonable goals, but go easy on yourself if you can't meet them.
I love goals and deadlines. I work SO MUCH BETTER with them. But, on occasion, I've turned them into my enemy. How? By beating myself up when I didn't meet them. Don't do this. Keep your goals reasonable. Adjust them if necessary.
And ditch them if they're making you upset.
I'm very hard on myself, and this has been tough to learn. I'm still working on it. But you know what? It's okay to fail sometimes. It's okay. It's okay.
Just keep trying.
Baby steps.
Just keep trying.
Crush #4: Mark (Ethan Embry) — Silly dreamy rocker boy. Remember the Gwar scene? SO AWESOME.
(5) Reward yourself with treats.
Yeah. I said it.
TREATS.
Meet a goal? Buy yourself a box of Godiva chocolates! Or a new album on iTunes! Or a night at the movies! Whatever makes your toes tingle. (Free things are great too — picnics by waterfalls, an afternoon with a good novel, a long bubble bath, etc. Kiersten sometimes rewards me with YouTube videos featuring actors with Scottish accents.)
Just set the reward ahead of time. That way you have something to look forward to, and you also won't get carried away when you get there. ("I know I said I'd only buy this one pair of shoes, but these blue ones are sooo cute too.") NO! DO NOT DO THIS. This leads to guilt, which leads to negative feelings associated with reaching your goal. Keep goal-reaching a celebration!
Crush #3: Cliff Pantone (Jesse Bradford) — If Jarrod and I could double date Cliff and his sister ("Missy, is it?"), we totally would.
(6) Freewrite before you write-write.
If the act of sitting down and writing a novel is too scary, start with some freewriting first. Have a second document on your computer where you can begin your writing session. Tell yourself hello and chat about what you want to write that day. Or freewrite about how terrified you are that you'll fail. Or about how freakishly horrible your novel is, how rock-solidly hard it blows, and how no one will want to read it EVER even if they are stuck on a desert island and their only choice of reading material is either YOUR NOVEL or a dermatologist's free pamphlet about psoriasis.
Eventually, you'll get so tired of your own whining that you'll actually go write something.
I know from experience. I have tens of thousands of freewriting words telling myself how much both my novels and me suck. That negative energy has to come out somewhere, and freewriting is a safe place to say the things you're most afraid of — and to wake your brain up in the process.
Crush #2: Duckie (Jon Cryer) –Duckie REQUIRES a video. This is one of my favorite scenes in any movie EV-ERRRR. (Please ignore the Spanish in the first few seconds)
(7) Give something up.
If it's about time ("I'd love to write, but I don't have the time"), then break down your schedule, hour-by-hour, and find out what you're actually DOING with your time. Maybe there are a few hours of television you can cut out. Maybe you can cut back on your reading or time online. (I know, I know. But sometimes it's necessary.) Or maybe you need to cut back on the social engagements.
You don't want to cut out everything in your life that gives you pleasure, but you'll have to cut something. It stinks, but that's the reality of it. [The wise-and-always-interesting John Scalzi recently wrote about this subject: "What You Have to Give Up to Write"]
Furthermore . . .
(AND THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT IDEA IN THIS WHOLE POST)
Crush #1: Lloyd Dobler (John Cusack) — I mean, it's Lloyd Dobler. He's like numbers two through ten combined. Times fifty.
(8) If you want to be a serious writer, treat it like the job that it is.
Writing a novel — a publishable novel — takes work. Real, actual, hard WORK.
This requires an attitude adjustment from, "Oh, what a fun little hobby" to "I will DO this. Even when it gets hard, even when I don't like it anymore, even when I want to give up. I will keep working until I reach the end."
(And then it gets harder, and then easier, and then harder, and then so impossible that you'll sink into a deep pit of despair and hate everything about your life and feel like the most miserable, wretched failure of all time, and then easier. And then hard again.)
I fight this battle every day. Sometimes I win, but most of the time I lose. But that doesn't mean I ever give up.
You have to keep trying.
Because in the end, the ONLY way to write . . . is to sit down. And do it.
How is that second book deadline coming along? Are you breathing? Sweating? Dancing? Eating everything in sight? Perhaps rolling bare-bummed in finished ms pages?
HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Snort snort snort.
[Stephanie wipes tear from eye.]
Choke snort choke.
It's, er, coming. In the sense that the actual deadline is rapidly approaching. (Four days. Accccck!) As I've mentioned here before — far too often — Second Novel and I are not exactly besties. She's pretty much kicking the tar out of me.
And taking enormous pleasure in it.
But . . . the last few weeks have okay! Okay-ish. The deadline is self-imposed, because I work much better under pressure. Productivity, creativity, and — most thankfully — my ability to focus ratchet up considerably. Because, as embarrassing as it is to admit, I am a hardcore procrastinator. I will wait until the LAST SECOND every time.
And I'm kinda in LAST SECOND territory now.
So it's a good thing! Sort of!
Buuuuuut yes. My daily habits have gone askew. I'm not dancing (I wish) or eating everything in sight (yet), but I'm drinking lattes at odd hours, staying up until six am, having panic attacks, emailing letters of desperation, canceling plans with friends, scribbling notes on my body in unwashable markers, and begging my husband to brainstorm with me about the same (stupid) thing again and again. And again.
I've also reached that stage where I edit my manuscript line-by-line while I sleep. (Do you do that? Please tell me you do. And then you wake up even more tired than when you went to bed?)
Oh! And there's a lot of uncontrollable sobbing.
In other words, I am SUPER FUN to be around right now!!!
(Thank you for thinking of me, Jolie. I've enjoyed reading about your progress this summer, too. Woo hoo! You're rocking it!)
I bought four pairs of retro sunglasses under this roof.
When are you coming back to San Diego? Because Dojo misses his Aunt Stephanie, and our band seriously needs to practice.
Dude. We DO need to practice.
And I'll come back to San Diego when it stops being so:
flower-filled and . . .
beautiful.
I'll come back when you can hook me up with something substantial.
Something like THIS:
Anonymous asked:
Do you type up your stories or hand write them? I prefer to hand write mine. It's almost like a good luck charm with me :)
Ooo, I wish I could write my first drafts by hand! Lucky you. I always thought it'd be cool to be one of those writers with a fountain pen and a pad of legal paper who just went for it. So romantic!
But, alas, I am . . . what's the word?
Oh, yeah. Anal. I'm totally anal.
Whenever I write by hand, inevitably I get stuck on the very first page, scribbling out large chunks and re-writing new — often worse — lines in illegible print above it and sideways in the margins. And then scratching out those lines, etcetera etcetera.
This is essentially the same thing I do on my computer, but at least when I work in Word (one of these days, I SO need to switch to Scrivener), you can't see how many tries it takes me to write one freaking sentence.
Which is a very. long. time.
(Which is why I should go now. Nasty deadline and all.)
To combat the down-ish nature of this post, I’ve enlisted the help of Adorable Baby Animals.
Perhaps you've noticed a decline of writing talk here. Perhaps you've picked up on my aggravation and frustration towards Second Novel.
Perhaps these incidents are related.
For the last several months, I’ve had some. . . difficult things happening. And as these things have grown, they've merged and festered upon the other difficulties in my life, most notably, Second Novel.
It was inevitable that everything would become intertwined, so completely enmeshed that it'd become impossible to see where one problem ended and the next began. And it was inevitable that Second Novel would receive the brunt of the blame, an unwanted bounty of expectations heaped upon it. It's kind of like a parent seeking to rectify his own life disappointments by forcing his child to attend medical school.
OMG. Is he real???
In other words, Second Novel has suffered — from both a lack of attention and too much attention. From endless brooding and constant avoiding. From comparisons to award-winning work, comparisons to my friends’ work, comparisons to my own work.
It’s safe to say that I pretty much beat the crap out of Second Novel.
It’s no wonder I felt beaten in return.
Those EARS! That smile!
But this isn’t (necessarily) a pity post. Because I’m happy to announce that for the last two weeks, things have begun falling back into place for me, and Second Novel is moving forward again.
Slowly, but — most certainly — steadily.
During difficult periods, I tend to set MORE writing goals. This many words per day/this many hours per week/this many chapters per month. And the more goals I set, the more likely I'm setting myself up for failure. Maybe you can relate.
I’m learning that sometimes I need to cut myself a break. Which doesn’t mean giving up or taking a vacation, but it does mean going easy on myself when the writing isn’t moving as quickly or as smoothly as I’d hoped.
It’s okay that it’s hard. It’s okay that I dread it. It’s okay.
In the last couple months, I asked for and received a lot of advice regarding Second Novel. Most of it was logical and positive and good, but a handful of people wondered if the reason why I'm struggling so badly is because there's something wrong with it. Perhaps it's time to move on, and this story isn’t meant to be.
But I know this is untrue.
Anyone else want to rub the fuzzy panda butt?
For all of the horrible curses I've wished upon it, I love Second Novel. And I believe in it for the simple reason that I believe in these characters.
They fascinate me and torment me and push me. I want to know how they fit together and how they pull themselves apart. I want to know why they haven’t let me rest for the last EIGHT (gulp, yes) years. Why won’t they go away? What story are they really trying to tell?
I keep asking them questions, scribbling down their answers, and trying to make sense of it all. And I’m not there yet, but certain aspects are becoming clearer. I just have to keep moving forward. I have to remember that I don’t need all the answers yet.
Besides, I’m a firm believer that the equation for writing a book is simple:
Time + Effort = Novel
Snouters + Grippy Claw = Beh-Be Anteater
Of course, there are variables. But basically? Yeah. You sit for an ungodly number of hours, you work harder than you’ve EVER worked on ANYTHING before, and eventually it happens.
This picture has absolutely nothing to do with this post. Jim Sturgess just looked all nice & jaunty. Also, he's lacked blog-time lately, and how else will people find me, if not through "Jim Sturgess Images" searches?
Isn't it weird how even though blogging is, like, this totally optional thing, you can still suffer hardcore guilt whenever you ignore it for a few days?
Or at least I do.
Guilt guilt guilt.
Feeling slightly bummed by my first real week back with Second Novel and discovering IT STILL HATES ME. We're working through our issues, but it's not easy or pleasant or even barely tolerable. Also, BEA (BookExpo America) is happening right now, so I'm a frumpy green monster of jealousy. 95% of my favorite authors are in attendance, whooping it up and collecting free books and exchanging blissful rainbow smiles made of candy.
And I am here. With Second Novel.
Who is mocking me and whispering evil taunts into my ear canal like, "You'll never be invited to BEA, because you have to conquer me first and you will NEVER conquer me because I AM INVINCIBLE and you are a WORTHLESS TADPOLE! SUCK ON THAT, CRAPNUGGET!!!"
Second Novel is really starting to tick me off.
And yet the only way to beat it is to spend more time with it. Which feels a little unfair. Sometimes I wish my occupational desires ran more along the lines of shrimp boat captain or wedding photographer or lion tamer.
I'm thinking perhaps I re-read too many princess books in between the novels on my self-imposed Required Reading List. The chances of me finishing this challenge on time are not looking positive.
Er, whoops?
But the awesome thing about Octavian Nothing is that it's set in Revolutionary Era Boston, which I've just learned tons about! Pretty sweet timing, no? (By the way, I still have lovely intentions to post about Boston/LeakyCon. My blogging skills just crumble once I get in Serious Writer Mode. It's difficult to do both at once. Or, maybe, I'm just lazy. You decide.)
But I'm digressing again. And . . . am TOTALLY ABOUT TO ONE-UP MYSELF:
I've watched that video waaaay too many times to admit to in a forum my husband reads.
Ah hem.
Jane Eyre! And Uglies! Which I READ! And loved! Both of them!
Exclamations!!!
I've decided to discuss them in bullet points, because it's my blog, and I can do whatever I like.
#3: JANE EYRE
• You were right! I should have read this years ago. I loved it. And I'm already looking forward to reading it again. And, you know, renting the movies. And reading the related books, like The Eyre Affair and Jenna Starborn and such.
• No, I am not obsessive. Why do you ask?
• Mr. Rochester is HOT. Hot hot HOT. Like, molten core boiling lava on burned toast hot. I knew he was supposed to be Mister Dark, Mysterious, and Brooding, so I expected that also meant silent. But he was a talker! And funny! A welcome surprise.
• Unfortunately, I already knew about The Thing In The Attic (it's hard to work with books and NOT know the secrets to classic novels), but I didn't know about the very end. So I was relieved to discover it was a happy one. I confess I much prefer happy endings with a true love that lasts forever and ever and ever, as opposed to those challenged by untimely death or lasting bitterness or stupid television plot devices that make characters CHEAT or BREAK UP just to keep the ball rolling. No! Give me kissing and endless devotion. I'm a sap like that. Bravo, Charlotte Brontë!
• Speaking of Charlotte, what do you guys think of her other novels? Should I read? Do they have happy endings? Or are they more Emily Wuthering Heights-ish?
#4: UGLIES
• Whee! What fun! Why do I have to read Octavian Nothing? I want to read Pretties instead!
• Um, why can't I think of anything intelligent to say?
• Seriously, it's as if my brain has shut off.
• It's all, "JIMSTURGESS JIMSTURGESS JIMSTURGESS." Which is totally unhelpful.
• Oh drat. Just believe me when I say I really, really liked this book, okay? And I'm looking forward to reading the rest of the series.
So sad I can't read Pretties yet. And that Second Novel is such a butthole.
Have a wonderful afternoon, everyone. Happy reading!
(Anyone else watching the MTV Movie Awards tonight? I'm almost too embarrassed to admit it here, but whatever. I'm a sucker for an awards show.)
